The recessed electric lights were dimmed and the candles were already lit when they sat down at opposite ends of the table. The hors d’oeuvre was a lightly spiced seafood salad accompanied by a chilled Sancerre and, with the ice broken, the conversation flowed easily.
When the entree arrived the General carved it himself and showed his skills as a host in a most elaborate way. He’d ordered a Rib of Beef, rare and on the bone, and Sappho was helped to braised and roasted vegetables before he signalled the Butler to serve the wine.
He’d chosen a Chateau Latour, a Red Bordeaux, or what the British call ‘Claret’: it was one of the classic Premier Crus from the south western Province of France just off the Bay of Biscay.
There was no prurience around the table and dinner progressed through t
